Lean On Me
by Golden-Heart the 2nd
Summary: Inspired by Cocoa987's prompt Colorless in Colors. Warning: Angsty. Ben/Abby angst mingled with Ben Riley friendship fluff. Oh, and Abi angst! Three-Shot due to story length. Rated T for safety.
1. Part One: Riley

Lean On Me

**Colorless**

When Riley had been asked to speak at a technology convention for the first time, his already pale face had gone completely translucent, and Ben knew that he'd be the one providing moral support this time instead of the other way around.

Inspired by Cocoa987's prompt Colorless in Colors. Warning: Angsty. Ben/Abby angst mingled with Ben Riley friendship fluff. Oh, and Abi angst! Two-Shot due to story length.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I doubly do not own. The prompt is all Cocoa987's, and Riley *Sigh* and all other associated characters belong to Disney and Bruckheimer. *Sigh* **

This started out as a story designed to be posted on Justin Bartha's birthday on the 21st, but sadly since I wasn't able to reach that deadline, I'd like to dedicate this fanfic to my three best NT friends on here: **Jedi Pirate Jaeh, LoremIpsum, **and last but not least, the girl who generously lent me the prompt for this story idea, **Cocoa987. **You three are so amazing! :-) I'm so thrilled to have you all as my best friends! :D

Thanks to **Jaeh **for helping me beta this and turn it into a work of magnificence! :-) You rock, girl! :-)

And, to **Cocoa, Jaeh, **and **Lori, **read this carefully! I have so many shout-outs to you all in here, it's practically one big homage-fest. ^^

* * *

_Omnia Vincet Amor (love conquers all things) Latin Proverb _

The May day dawned brisk and sharp; the yellow orb of the glowing, pulsating ball of the sun shooting spears of light through the leaves of noble firs that lined the avenue of the Gates residence, dappling the ground with golden strips of sunrise. In the doorway of the Gates mansion, Ben Gates escorted Dr. Abigail Chase outside to her little Saturn. His wife was quite pregnant as she was halfway through her third trimester, and he liked to help her as often as he could. Touching her swollen belly affectionately, Ben leaned in to give her a kiss goodbye before the woman he regarded as his sun dashed off to work to the Archives for work.

"_Ich liebe dich,_" Ben whispered to Abigail in German, causing a smile to awaken on her face, slipping through her lips, opening them gracefully as she apprehended what was saying to her - in her own Saxony German! Teasingly, she played with her husband's hair, murmuring, "You know, Ben, there never was a man like you," as she nestled close to him.

"In your life or somebody else's?" Ben queried, lifting his eyebrows as he alluded to, tongue-in-cheek, Abigail's other disasters with men before she had finally agreed to marry him.

"No," she agreed, her face beaming, "there never was another man like you in my _life_, ever. But," she held one finger to his lips to still his protests, "don't go giving yourself airs about it."

Ben smiled in resignation. _Oh, how I love my Abigail. _Before he let her go, he dramatically pulled her close to him, her pink lips staining his as they kissed with obvious ardor. Releasing her, Ben watched as she slipped into the driver's seat behind the wheel in one fluid movement despite being pregnant. Gently placing her key into the groove, Abigail felt the car rumble beneath her as the ignition began. Pressing the gas, the young woman started off down the long gravelly path, the gangly treasure hunter chasing after her, yelling, "Abi, be safe!" In an undertone, he added, "Because I can't bear losing you."

Abigail glanced back, waving as she disappeared on the curve that lead to the road, calling back, "I will, Ben!"

* * *

The sun rose to its zenith, baking the streets and sidewalks of America's Capitol City as Abigail descended the steps of The National Archives, deep in thought. With Ben, it was always treasure, often to her consternation. Even today, Ben had been overly ecstatic, she thought, about a new lead he found connected to the inscrutability behind pg 47, which was apparently indirectly related to one of his ancestors.

Though after pondering this for a moment, the only island of stillness amongst the other tourists and workers walking up and down the steps of the Archives, the archivist of historical documents came to the conclusion that it was, once again, _always_ this way. It had happened with the Templar Treasure and Cibola, hadn't it? And his ancestors were usually right, another thing that rattled her to no end as she remembered the fiasco behind the discovery of City of Gold.

Climbing back into her Saturn Aura, Abigail sighed, methodically putting it in reverse as she cautiously backed out into the busy DC rush-hour traffic, eager to get home. Shading her eyes briefly against the glare of the sun, she eased into her way into the inside lane. Her mind flashed back to that morning, reflecting on her interactions with her charming husband during that half-lit hour of day while the other part of her brain concentrated on driving.

_Ben only thinks about treasure. _A voice nagged her.

_No, he doesn't. Don't you recall how lovingly he cared for you just this morning? _Another voice countered indignantly, fraught with anger at this unfair accusation against the man she truly loved more than anything.

_What? It was only breakfast in bed. _The sinister voice shot back.

_But he's so chivalrous! That's why I fell in love with him! _The other voice snapped, eager to get the last word in.

One thought rose above the other voices. _Why am I so discontented with Ben? He loves me more than life itself, and he's proven this to me several times, and he regards me as - _

Another car skidded close to her Saturn, causing Abigail to flinch slightly, and then she resolved to ignore the voices buzzing in her head and focus on driving. The young woman was so riveted on the errant driver who'd disturbed her peace of mind, that she never saw the huge blue and white van deliberately heading strongly at her Saturn until it was too late. A hard wrench intermixed with a melting of the metal that embosomed her mingled with the combustion of the engine immediately shot her into alertness. _The baby! _Abigail gasped inwardly; attempting to duck low beneath the seat in hopes of protecting her child as the vehicle caught fire, spinning wildly out of control. Horrified onlookers abruptly brought their cars to a stop while the van that had rammed into her departed hastily.

Abigail, trapped in the vehicle that was veering manically out of her control, glanced up, somewhat dazed. In spite of the cloudiness fogging her view, the archivist noticed a large gray wall looming up to meet her, smiling grimly at her as the Saturn allowed itself it be lifted into its mouth. Bracing herself for the incoming collision, Abigail moaned as she tried to open the door to let herself out, pulling her hand back as fire darted alongside her arm like a snake. Inserting her foot into the recesses beneath the wheel, she placed her hands over her distended belly in one last effort to avert any harm to her child.

A thought bubbled up into her mind amid the confusion, terror and dismay she was experiencing. _Ben regards me as his finest treasure. _There was a sharp burst, and the woman felt the car buckle under her. _Oh God, protect me - I need to tell Ben still what a treasure - such a treasure he is to me. _

At that moment, something pounded against her skull, and then, mercifully, everything faded to black.

* * *

Ben lay with his head resting on his arms, exhausted after a full night's and day's research into the mystery behind page 47. Papers littered the desk and his office, and among them lay three different scraps of leather - riddles which he believed were key leads (as he'd related to Abigail) to discovering the new treasure.A cell phone jangled next to him, making Ben start, blinking his eyes groggily as he reached for the phone nearby. Inspecting the top, the treasure-protector noticed the speed-dial blurted "Peter Sadusky" in bright red letters. The tall, gangly man gasped, his eyes widening as he flipped open the device.

"Sadusky, what is it?" Ben asked, his voice tight with high-pitched fear. Could something be wrong with Riley? It was highly unusual for Sadusky to contact him personally; only matters of national importance would cause him do so. The thing was, any matter linked with Riley or his **amazing** wife _was _a matter of national importance to Ben.

"What is it?" Ben demanded, growing angry. Sadusky, over the line, noticed his emotional state, and quickly he explained what had happened.

"Ben, Dr. Chase is in the hospital -,"

"_Abigail_," Ben retorted, his face stiffening. "Why?"

"She's been the victim of a hit-and-run accident. She's in the ICU, and we have the whole situation under control. Agents are inspecting the crash at this moment." Sadusky went on, his carefully controlled voice betraying no modulation of anxiety or emotion.

"Don't tell me you've got the whole situation under control when my wife, my Abigail is in critical care at the hospital," Ben snarled, his eyes blazing, his entire posture echoing that of an enraged, lanky tomcat. But since he realized it would not do to ruffle the feathers of the FBI Agent any more than he often did; Ben switched tactics, his blood on fire, blistering with rage at Sadusky's official manner. The man was his _friend_, after all.

"Have you heard from Riley lately?" Ben inquired, attempting to keep his voice as bland as possible. "I've got to find him - tell him about Abi - I haven't seen him for a while."

"Last I checked on him, he was hard at work on another conspiracy theory book," Sadusky replied as Ben threw on a jacket and prepared to leave, having slept in his clothes the previous night. Hearing a visible distrust in the FBI agent's tone, Ben rose in defense of his friend.

"Riley's not like all those other conspiracists! He thinks rationally about these things, probably better than you do. And when he actually has found proof about a certain myth being true, he's usually right," Ben protested, referring to the Book of Secrets, or the President's Secret Book, as Riley had termed it in his autobiography of their quest, as he grabbed his keys from their shelf while pulling the heavy front door open savagely to stride outside to his car. But his phone was silent. Sadusky had ended the call after Ben's last statement, weary of the treasure-protector's belligerent manner.

* * *

"Benjamin Franklin Gates?" a nurse addressed him, looking carefully at the tall, rangy man before her, despair etched plainly on his features. His ice-blue eyes darkened to steel gray as he stared back at her anxiously. The nurse adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses to inspect him better, and then she replied gently, "I'm sorry, Mr. Gates, but you can't see your wife now – she's in the intensive care unit, and the doctors don't want to do anything to disturb her."

"But you must let me," Ben pleaded, his voice cracking slightly as his burden settled down upon him with the news that he was still unable to see Abigail – and that she was lingering in a nether world between life and death – and that doctors were doing everything to make sure she survived. "I have to tell her I love her – that she's all the treasure I ever longed for."

The desk nurse glanced up at him curiously. "In fact, Mr. Gates," she soothed in her mellow voice, "you know, when she arrived here in the ambulance, your wife was murmuring the words 'Ben dearest Ben, you have always been my _Schatz_ I love you'." Ben glanced at her, realizing that she was implying that Abigail had been delirious when she had first arrived at the hospital. Her injuries must be much worse than he'd originally thought.

Placing her light brown hand on his shoulder, the RN sought to explain why he needed to hold off being with his wife at the moment. "Just wait until she's – Abigail – out of the ICU now," the nurse said patiently, her dark eyes focused on the agonized treasure-protector sympathetically, seeming to empathize with his predicament. "The ER doctors are meanwhile trying to do all that they can to save Abigail and the baby."

The baby! He'd entirely forgotten in his profound worry for his wife. Noticing the anguished expression misting his eyes, the practitioner tried to alleviate it.

"Why don't you take a drive around town, work off some anxiety?" she suggested. "Maybe visit a friend who you can lean on during this time?"

* * *

Sitting in his battered, ancient Sedan, Ben held his face in his hands, attempting to stanch the tears slicing down his face. His whole world had abruptly been pulled out from under his feet, leaving him desolate. Abigail couldn't be taken away from him like this! He would fight tooth and nail before he let _that _happen. Recovering himself, Ben directed his car onto the highway, advancing towards the direction of Riley's apartment.

* * *

_ Fidus Achates (Faithful Friend) _

Ben, deciding that this course of action was a good plan, wearily returned to his decrepit Sedan, considering that after he sought out Riley, maybe they could both inspect the site of the accident, but then he realized that Sadusky's FBI colleagues were probably still there and wouldn't welcome his intrusion. Ben's heart lurched at the thought of witnessing his wife's Saturn turned into a smashed cage of metal, imagining her trapped in it, fearing for her life and that of their child. Perhaps it was better not to go.

Half an hour later, Ben brought his vehicle to a stop outside his friend's ground-level apartment. His best friend normally kept his various apartments at such levels due to his intense fear of heights. While they certainly didn't distress Ben Gates, for Riley it was another matter entirely, he mused, recalling a trip they'd taken to Mesa Verde where his best friend had grasped his hand the entire time they'd crawled down to see the cliff dwellings.

For this, Ben actually experienced a burst of gladness about; as it meant reaching Riley would take only a quick run up to his door. The tall, gangly man, his shock of dark hair obscuring his view due to stress intermixed with anxiety, bounded over to the simple white doorframe that blared number 13 at him, the same number as the chapter about The President's Secret Book in _The Templar Treasure and Other Myths That are True. _Riley must have upgraded to a new apartment, Ben assumed, as he knocked, or rather, **pounded **on the door. There was no answer.

"Riley?" Ben called out, uneasiness tensing his voice. "Riley!" The silence deafened him, unnerving the treasure protector as he considered the possibility that Riley wasn't home. But Riley _had _to be here – he just had to. Ben pounded the door again, and this time it slowly creaked open, causing the historian to recall that the doors to his friend's apartments always stuck. Cautiously, Ben stepped inside, easing his way through piles of haphazardly stacked research books, various pieces of computer equipment, and wads of rejected drafts littering the floor and the nearby solitary table.

"Riley!" Ben hissed into the air again, a slight catch in his voice. If Riley was missing too, he felt he wouldn't be able to bear it. A sigh creep out of the small room the techie joked was his "office," though in actuality it was his merely his bedroom and a voice replied, "In here, Ben." Ben became aware of footsteps padding to the door. A jangle, followed by a brief tug, and then his best friend emerged; hair tousled in disarray as usual and his bright blue eyes glimmering moistly from nights of overwork. As Ben glanced down at Riley, a flash of guilt swept over him, dismayed that he hadn't once thought to give Riles a call to see how the work on his latest book was coming along.

But if the historian had noticed his friend's raggedly appearance at a glance, Riley had meanwhile inspected his fellow accomplice-in-arms; his eyes alit with concern as his gaze searched Ben's haggard face, bloodshot eyes, and his hastily thrown-on clothing that also seemed to be rumpled as if from sleeping in them.

_Something is terribly wrong, _Riley noted. _What could cause Ben to be like this? _

Ben sank into a nearly chair, his eyes glinting with unshed tears of relief. Riley was here. And with that certainty, everything seemed brighter, somehow. Riley let himself fall gently into a medium-sized swivel chair resting amongst the rubble, his bright blue eyes burning with anxiety. The treasure-protector restlessly ran his long, supple fingers through his hair, an expression of strain that the computer expert knew well, and it disturbed him profoundly. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Ben's shoulder, endeavoring to alleviate his burden.

"It's okay, Ben," he murmured. "I'm here for you. You can lean on me." The finder of the Templar Treasure raised his face so that he saw the reflection of his eyes superimposed over Riley's own, and mused to himself, at the back of his mind that the grief had not yet numbed fully, _Riley is a reflection of myself – he always has been, that's why he's stuck so closely with me through all the trials we went through to discover those Treasures of the Ancients, and yet_ _I've never told him he's – _

His thought was cut off as he noticed Riley appear to wince as realization struck him, gazing into Ben's face as he captured the anguish brimming in his face with his own. The treasure-hunter found looking into a sympathetic mirror. Taking a deep breath, he laid a hand on Riley's left shoulder, so that they were both holding each other up.

A look of pain flashed through his face as Ben dredged up Abigail's accident, how he had been unable to be with her and the loneliness and despair he tasted during that time evocated his need for companionship that he now understood he had been pushing away since Patrick and Emily had moved back to Pennsylvania once more – this time, together - a year ago. Their move had left a hole in Ben's heart that he'd never spoken to anyone about. He realized this only now as the despair of his wife's crash caught him in its snare, pulling him under, leaving him with no one to speak his fears for Abigail to, and, worst of all, he had regarded his own family as being closer to him than the young techie who'd loyally stood by him in all those fruitless searches uncovering the key to the Treasure Beyond All Imagining.

Riley seemed to be aware of Ben's train of thought, his voice fraught with worry.

"Ben," he spoke tightly," come on. Tell me what the matter is."

"Riley," declared with a sharp catch in his voice, thinking of Abi lying still and white on a hospital bed, "I need you."

At those three words, a light dimmed in Riley's face as he gradually understood Ben was probably referring to Abigail. Shadows crossed his features as he thought wistfully of how much he _loved _her, not that he would ever tell Ben or Abi as such; they were perfect for each other, he knew, and he refused to mar it with such a confession.

"Riley, I need you," Ben repeated intensely. "Abigail's had a bad car accident (a hit-and-run _and_ a collision) and she's in the ICU and… and…" a sob choked him, "they won't let me see her!"

Riley's eyes narrowed as he stood up to get the keys to his Ferrari Spyder. Crossing back over to Ben, he patted him on the shoulder encouragingly as he cajoled, "Well, let's find out if we can change that then." Waggling his eyebrows, his continued dryly, "Nothing like a handsome guy like me needed to gain you some access into the room." Ben let a smile slip through at Riley's attempt cheer him up. But he noticed that in spite of his careless manner, Riley's face was edgy with fear – for him and his wife.

* * *

"It's done," Riley reported, strolling over to Ben, who sat agitatedly in a black hospital waiting chair, idly fiddling with a magazine of no vital concern to him. "Nursey Tia over there," he gestured in the direction of the front desk, "has allowed you to go in to see her now. Doctor's orders. She's out of the ICU now to rest before they complete a few more vital surgeries – but she's stabilized and Tia's related to me that it's fine for you to be with her. But, due to visitor stipulations, I have to stay behind and watch our seats."

He raised his eyebrows casually, making a joke out of it, though Ben sensed that he was inwardly rebelling against such a thing. Rising from the uncomfortable hospital chair, Ben loped over to the man thirteen years his junior to touch him gently on the shoulder and whisper a word of thanks.

"Riley, you're gold – you're a treasure. Thanks for all you did today – because, really, I'd be lost without you," he paused briefly, causing Riley to stop playing with his sleeve and glance up at him. "My brother," Ben finished, pulling Riley into a grateful hug.

"Stay gold, okay?" he added, releasing the younger man, throwing Riley a little wave before he disappeared down the hallway to see Abi. Left in the waiting room, his feet rooted to the floor, Riley's smile increased until it became megawatt. _Ben called me his brother. His brother! _Riley thought, jubilating inside. Seeing odd stares from the other patrons, he quickly took a seat, embarrassed.

* * *

Ben silently walked into Abigail's room, all too aware of the medical monitor examining her beeping loudly in the room. In the bed, his wife lay still, as colorless as a fresh piece of paper. Ben kneeled down beside her bed, taking her moderately warm hand in his. Bending over, he gently kissed her on the lips. The slight movement above her caused Abigail to slowly open her eyes.

"Ben?" she asked, overjoyed to see him in the midst of the agony that racked her bones hourly. "Ben, the baby's all right. _I'm _going to be all right," she soothed, her voice raspy from pain, as she noticed her husband's eyes brim over with tears at her condition – several broken ribs, a fractured leg, her burned and swathed in lotion bandages body, her smashed wrist, and, a long, thin bandage across the top of face, indicating that a sliver of glass had gashed it. Ben understood that such an injury would leave a scar, but to him, it did not mar her beauty – in fact, she appeared to be even lovelier to him just because she was alive. He knew she would have sacrificed her life to save their child.

"Remember the old Latin proverb, Omnia Vincet Amor?" Abi inquired of Ben, drinking in his features as he gently gazed into her eyes.

"Love Conquers All Things," Ben whispered in reply, gently brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"And it will," Abigail responded, gripping the historian's hand with her good one. "It will," she reiterated as her husband bent down to kiss her again. Outside the doorway, Riley stood in the threshold to the room, peering in at the moving scene. Then, he set off down the elongated sterile hallway, back to the waiting room to stay there as long as he was needed.

* * *

_And thus ends Part One of Lean On Me. Tune in for the second installment hopefully by early November! I am so sorry that it has taken **this **long, everyone! :(  
_

_ Review?  
_


	2. Part Two: Ben Part 1

**Disclaimer: Still don't own. Jerry, I really want to see Justin Bartha in movie number three, and can you get to work on it please SOMETIME SOON? **

* * *

Three months later, Abigail emerged from the hospital like a butterfly that had finally made its way of the ordeal of the chrysalis, discovering that it has wings. Thus, Abigail was stronger, and blithely returned to bickering playfully with Ben almost immediately. Riley began to be included as well in her teasing of them both, but now it was tempered by the knowledge that she was beyond a doubt Ben's Templar Treasure and Cibola combined.

During the first month of Abigail's recovery, Riley had dropped hints to Ben that he suspected that the men behind the hit and run were probably Ian Howe's stooges. Ben took him seriously, and brought the matter up with a none-too-thrilled Sadusky, who still had his misgivings towards Riley's latest book. But he took the idea gravely in spite of that, ordering an investigation drawn up. It was soon discovered that Ian Howe was actually the one driving the van, and he was swiftly impounded, yelling threats that he'd break out of prison within a year.

It was now the second week of July, around the time of the due date for the Gates' baby, so both treasure-protectors and the archivist started drumming out names. One day, Riley dropped in for one of these sessions without alerting the Gates to prospect that he was coming over. Hearing the doorbell ring, Ben hurried to answer it. On the granite doorstop stood Riley, clasping his laptop under one arm. Abigail appeared from beside Ben, and once Riley noticed her, he strove to hold back a wince of rage at the sight of her colorless scar, glaringly obvious on her forehead in spite of how delicate it seemed.

"Riley," Abigail exclaimed. "What a surprise! Please, come in," she continued, extending her hand for the techie to grasp. After a moment's hesitation, Riley took her hand gently as Ben stepped out of the way so his wife could lead his friend inside. The first thing Riley saw was the leaning towers of Pisa stacks of history tomes, historical fiction, and baby names books lying around on the floor, decorating the dining room table, even obscuring Ben's computer that he scarcely ever used, preferring to leave the technical issues to Riley. Most of the books were gaping at them impatiently, the names in them having been discussed thoroughly and then forgotten.

"What's going on?" Riley exploded; stopping short as his mind fully apprehended the chaos. Abigail had departed for the kitchen to bring back a snack, leaving Ben to explain.

"This is what happens when two history nuts decide to try and name their child after a historical personage or event," Ben expounded, half-jokingly as Riley placed his laptop on a safe place on the table amongst all the clutter of the volumes. The two men swiveled around when Abigail returned, bearing a traditional German snack called Salzstangen, a type of German pretzels. Abi's was an old family recipe, soft and buttered and succulent. _Well, when you are around the Gates family, you can always expect them to go all out_, Riley mused to himself as he took a pretzel from the china plate Abigail offered to him, smiling. He grinned in return, keenly aware of her scar, even though the woman herself appeared unconscious of it, acting like she did always. When Riley looked over at her giving a pretzel to Ben, he noticed them flirting with each other. He shrugged, somewhat in embarrassment. Feeling he wasn't being polite, he decided to speak up.

"How does Charlotte sound?" he inquired, referring to the hidden ship in the Arctic, remembering that the discovery of the ship unveiled the clue that had lead him and Ben to Dr. Chase, thus sparking off Ben and Abi's romance. At the couple's reflective nods, the techie determined that they wanted him to continue.

"And what about Abraham Lincoln Gates for a boy?" As they stood close together, Riley gazed at Ben and Abigail Gates, who set it other off so well. Ben with his dark and still suave good looks balanced by Abigail's gold and cream complexion. Riley sighed, wondering if he'd ever have that. Ben noticed his melancholy sigh, returning his look with a silent expression on his face that indicated he understood Riley's predicament. Abigail broke the silence.

"Riley, if the baby's a girl, what do you think Charlotte's middle name should be?"

"Okay –wait. Let me think for a sec," Riley answered, turning away from the Gates, crossing his right arm over his chest while his left arm propped up his face while he thought. Rotating to face Ben and Abi again, Riley offered, "How about Justin – like after Justin Martyr, the first great Church Father? Or you could call her Justine, the feminine version of the name, after a great girl in a series I'm reading." Cradling Abigail in his arms, Ben glanced down at her.

"Well, Abigail, what do you think?"

"I think those a fine names – thank you, Riley, for your help," she replied, first to her husband and then she directed her comments toward Riley. Feeling weary, Abigail excused herself, going to lie down, knowing her potentiality for the baby's birth could be at any time, and she needed all her strength. Before she left, she advised the two men to catch up with each other – as the baby was not the only reason she had decided to leave, as she had instinctively felt that Riley had something he ought to have her husband's assistance with. Receiving his wife's subtle clue, Ben guided Riley in the direction of the enormous library he and Abi supervised as a subsidy of the mansion, in the hopes that their collection could be passed down to prosperity. Riley's eyes widened in astonishment as he gazed upon the shelves upon shelves housing all the various books on history Ben and Abi had garnered. The treasure-protector grinned, unbeknownst to the computer expert, as he knew that expression fell over Riley's features ever time he stepped foot into the Library of Congress! Finally, Ben touched Riley on the shoulder, causing the thirty-one year old to look up at him. For some reason, he somehow seemed much younger than his age, standing vulnerable and alone in the midst of their big library, restlessly rocking on his feet back and forth. At last, he glanced up, his bright blue eyes wide with nervousness. Facing him, Ben felt his heart wrench with sympathy, pondering what was wrong. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Ben demanded gently,

"Riley, what's the matter?" As if in response to his question, Riley's cell phone, shattering the silence of the library. The techie reached into his pocket, bringing the device up to his ear warily.

"Hello?" he asked quietly.

"Riley Poole?" answered a chirpy, female voice. "Is that really your voice I'm hearing? Am I talking the author of _The Templar Treasure and Other Myths that are True_? That book with all the finely detailed technological expertise? Well, Mr. Poole, we would like _you_ to speak at our TechCon, explaining how you did all that splendid material spoken of in the book? The TechCon is on the 21st, be there! We'll be looking for you!"

"Wait!" Riley exclaimed. "Yes, I am Mr. Poole, and yes, I am the author of the book _The Templar Treasure _but I don't really see why you want me to come speak on it – a large majority of what I did was, ahem, not legal in many senses of terms," he continued, glancing at Ben, "and by the way, miss, what's your name? How did you ever find out mine, anyway?"

"My name is of no concern," she prattled on. "Just come to the TechCon, Mr. Poole – we would LOVE to hear you talk about your experiences! Oh yes, and I forgot to mention, but we are also big on legitimate conspiracy theories here, so we'd adore hearing about your next book. Oh, and all the people who come to TechCon are bigwigs – even the great FBI Agent Peter Sadusky is going to be here! I'm just the little secretary." Ben raised his eyebrows, thinking to himself, _My, she's an effusive one_, all the while casually taking a book from the shelf to look inconspicuous as he examined his friend's reaction. When the name "Peter Sadusky" had been announced as one of the participants, Riley's already pale face had gone completely translucent, and Ben knew that he'd be the one providing moral support this time instead of the other way around. Riley cleared his throat, halting the overenthusiastic secretary's stream of words.

"I'm sorry, miss," he said gently. "But I cannot attend this TechCon, no matter how much I would've liked to. I know literally nothing of public speaking outside of a class I took in High School and the book signings…."

"Oooh, you're just being humble," the secretary crooned. "That means you'll be there! Oh thank you so much, Mr. Poole! All of the participants are going to be so pleased when I get this announced! Laters!" she cried out, blowing a loud kiss into the phone before the connection went dead.

"So, this is what you've avoided telling me," Ben said pointedly from behind the book he was reading – making Riley glance up at him, puzzled, his bright blue eyes burning with anxiety mingled with disinclination before the younger man noticed the title of the book his friend was browsing: _The Templar Treasure and Other Myths that are True. _

"You're reading my book," Riley whispered in grateful awe, but then his face slumped as he recalled his bewildering phone conversation with the secretary, Sadusky, and the fact that they wanted him to speak about his illegal activities in the service of aiding Ben in discovering his family's Treasures of the Ancients.

"Ben, you're too perceptive," he groaned, sliding against a wooden bookcase until he found the carpet. "I can't do this, Ben. I can't. Sadusky's going to be there! Ben, that guy could arrest me when he hears all the information they're obviously wanting me to talk about…." "Well, it wasn't all me," Ben countered, bending down to so he could look into Riley's face,

"Abigail suspected something was up with you, and urged me to investigate. But though, it wasn't like I didn't have my own suspicions." Riley sighed, leaning his head against the bookcase tiredly. He was still loath to attend the TechCon, not telling his friend that the "secretary" had already dialed him up twice, and not to mention that he feared Sadusky's wrath – and potential incarceration. He wasn't sure he was able to come through with it – not even out of loyalty to Ben for bringing him this far. The newfound interest in him as a _person_ was refreshing as it meant people no longer regarded him as Ben Gates' mere assistant. His eyes grew moist with frightened tears as he contemplated his lifelong fear of speaking before crowds. Ben put a hand under his chin, gently easing Riley's face up so he was looking at him.

"Listen, Rile, it's okay. We've been friends for so long, I know your fears – and since you're my brother, they're mine too. Come on; lean on me during this time. I promise I'll help – in fact, let me introduce you to an ancient method of speaking in public that forces you to speak well, that of Demosthenes' pebbles. The only way you can conquer this is to face it and to know…" "That 'courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear' Mark Twain," Riley finished, letting Ben take his hand to help him to his feet. "Well, I suppose we should get to work…." He continued. "But can I grab another one of Abi's pretzels before we head out to the Mall?"And they both laughed...

**NTNTNTNTNTNT **

Ben kept his promise, daily taking Riley out into the crowds surrounding the famous landmarks of Washington, DC for practice sessions. First, Ben instructed that Riley learn how to speak with pebbles in his mouth like the renowned Grecian orator Demosthenes in order to strengthen his voice. While Riley practiced speaking with pebbles gathered in his mouth from the Reflecting Pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Ben would encourage him by clapping loudly whenever he spoke clearly in spite of the rocks blocking his appendage, and later, as a reward, he would regale him with stories to hearten him about other famous speakers ranging from Abraham Lincoln to Winston Churchill and, naturally, Demosthenes, because he knew how much Riley loved a story.

**NTNTNTNTNT**

In fact, that was the reason they had bonded years ago. Riley hearkened back to his memories trapped in the dismal office space, that claustrophobic windowless cubicle, idly using his talents for whatever necessity his overbearing manager demanded of him, until that day when his friend (who'd even babysat him back when he was knee-high to a grasshopper) strolled into the office, laden with sheaves of notes and a strip of leather, which had immediately caught Riley's attention, leaning back over his desk, vainly trying to see what it was as Ben talked to Gerald Winston, the NSA boss of his department - the computer repair – and when Riley found the spare time, he worked on manipulating technology to intercept enemy missives, which were _occasionally_ in the form of ciphers. Winston was not compliant with Ben's idea of lending him one of his workers – even though Ben was willing to pay for their services. The altercation grew louder, and, as Riley crept closer, the man he barely recalled from his earlier years thrust his arm passionately onto the table, scattering various items off of it, which he didn't notice fall of; he was so frustrated with Winston. The techie's eyes brightened as he glimpsed the leathery strip nearby. Reaching his hand out, he brought it close to him, unrolling it to disclose the message. _The secret lies with Charlotte. _The Treasure of the Ancients! He gasped, sitting back awkwardly as a long shadow fell upon him, glancing into Winston's office. Thankfully, his boss was still there, and Riley breathed a sigh of relief, still clutching the leather.

"Hello, Mr. Poole," the shadow spoke, causing Riley to scramble backwards, frightened. He looked up into the light blue eyes of a tall man he only vaguely recalled. "I see you've found my secret."

"Who are you?" Riley squeaked. "I remember you from somewhere." Just as Riley asked his question, Winston called for him. He sounded belligerent. The young man groaned inwardly as he hurried back to see his boss, completely forgetting to return the parchment slip. Once inside Winston's workplace, after closing the door behind him, the young man scooted over to the corner as his boss stalked over to where he stood. Riley noticed Winston's cold grey eyes glittering with suppressed anger, and momentarily he wondered why.

"Why is that crazy Gates guy here?" he demanded of the techie, causing him to plaster himself alongside the side as the wall, attempting to make himself as small a target as possible in case Winston should hit him in his rage against the man he had referred to as "Gates".

"I-I don't k-know who h-he i-is," Riley stuttered, his crystal blue eyes quailing under Winston's glare. He placed his hands against the wall as his boss from hell leaned so close to him that he smelled the pungent breath emanating from his mouth. Riley grimaced, averting his face from directly looking into the eyes of his superior. His hand, clammy with concealed fear, loosened its grip on the parchment. It fell to the floor beside his black Converse. Casting a side glance at Winston, the techie silently placed his shoe over the priceless clue, but not before Winston noticed. His dark eyes widened with something inherently close to greed flitting in them, and he shoved Riley aside, into the wall, bending to pick up the parchment. _You can't have that – it's not yours! _Riley gasped inwardly, his blue eyes huge saucers behind his geeky glasses as he watched his boss unfold the parchment, reading the message – _the clue – _on it. Winston glanced over at him with a careless, deadly expression on his visage, and Riley felt fear shaft through his insides again. Defiantly, the techie stared at his supervisor with angry determination smoldering in his eyes.

"Give it back to me, Winston," Riley demanded, reaching out for the slip of parchment. "I need to return it to that man – it doesn't belong to **you!" **

* * *

_Obviously this story is intent on becoming a multi-chap. :S Stay tuned! Sorry for the dearth in updates on it. _**  
**


End file.
